Im not entirely sure why I got the urge to write this at 1am. Still, lets crack on anyway. We can assume that River lives a fairly normal life in between travelling with the Doctor. So basically, when things don't go too well, or she's outstayed her welcome, or when she's generally at the centre of some kind of chaos, she calls the Doctor. This is just a tiny encounter, until they meet again on some wild adventure, with Fezs and Stetsons and running... Always running. It's only short, but, I hope you enjoy it all the same - Interface

The message was clear. 51st Century New London.

The landing was noisy. He'd left the brakes on again - he loved that noise.

He opened the door and there she stood. It was raining. She was soaked through, clutching her black jacket around her with shaking hands. Her eyes were red and puffy, her usually beautifully made up face was streaked with whatever cosmetic the rain hadn't already managed to strip away.

It didn't need saying. It never did. She called; and he came; just like he always did.

She stepped into him, her face buried in his neck. Tears now flooding back in relief that he'd come for her.

He held her. No words were exchanged between them. No sighs, no comforting 'tuts', no apologetic 'awws' or uncomplicated words of reassurance.

She soaked through his jacket, through his shirt; finally soaking into his skin. Still he simply held her, and allowed her to cry. It must have been bad; she'd never cried before.

He found her face, pushed her unruly damp curls out of the way and stared apologetically into her saddened expression - She managed to look utterly perfect whatever the situation. His own expression merged into one of untold affection, pure, honest love and trust.

It didn't need saying as their lips caressed and merged. As tongues tangled and left the need for words far behind them. Hands did the all talking they would need at that moment. Drenched clothes, reminders of everything that had gone wrong, lay forgotten in the wake of everything that felt so right.

The cool glass floor was immersed in condensation. The temperature regulator long since switched off in an unforeseen moment of passion.

They lay, naked and entwined at the base of the console. Both drenched in tiny droplets, sweat mixed with condensation mixed with love.

They dressed and she left.

It didn't need saying.
It never did.